A Fine Line Between
by LunaEclipse17
Summary: When a mysterious bad boy meets a spoiled princess, is it a recipe for disaster or are they just what the other needs? *** Mase is Dark, Possessive, and really Cocksure... maybe quite a dick... But I luv him this way!
1. Chapter 1 - A Demon

_**A/N This story is darker, with references to drug and alcohol use. I am not in any way encouraging or recommending use or abuse of anything mentioned. Substance abuse is dangerous and illegal! Edward is violent to an extent, please do not flame me for his "spankings", dirty mouth or any other thing you find terribly displeasing. I put this in as a warning, as I don't want you to read something you find distasteful. So proceed at your own risk peoples!**_

_**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight, Edward, etc… they are her babies; I just fuck with their lives like they are my own personal playthings.**_

_**Mase is a MarieCarro Vanadesse creation. She rocks my socks! **_

A Demon . . .

EPOV

_When __will __the memories __finally __fade?_

My eyes felt like they were on fire; my ears thumped to the beat of the techno pulsing in the background. The club crowd was amped; dancing to the music blaring out of the speakers. Bodies writhed against each other to the seductive throbbing, causing the room to look as if it were breathing. I stared blindly out from the private box section of _Toxic_, one of the only establishments open at this time of night. Port Angeles was not exactly a hot spot for socializing.

The privacy glass allowed me the freedom to finish my "business" without fear of retribution, for in here you could ask for pretty much anything under the sun: alcohol, the typical variety of substances. . . the list went on and on. It was beginning to bore me actually, attempting life as a rebel and outcast was highly overrated at the moment. I finished my shit and sniffed in deeply, ready to once again face the crush of intoxicated people.

If it weren't for the fact I wanted to find some companionship tonight, I would have just stayed safely confined to the limits of the private club; here I could become sloppy and stumble out the back door, or even get a sympathetic ride home, instead of exhibiting public displays of intoxication. But the memories of the betrayal taunted me tonight, more so than usual, driving me to release my tension into some unsuspecting female. Sex was a great avenue of release for me, even though my perverted tendencies keep me flying solo for the most part.

_Maybe __we'll __get lucky tonight demon, _my inner voice taunted. _There are __always __fucked__up __whores __here __willing __to do anything we want._

Girls flocked to me like drunks to a bottle of whiskey. With all the attempts I made to make myself unattractive to the hoi polloi the more they seemed fascinated with me. A constant frown or snarl twisted my features into an animalistic grimace that most people found uncomfortable. I hid my painfully perfect features and lithe body underneath piercings and tattoos. I hated it; having a face like this. Girls would look, glance away, double-take, etc. Finally, after a bunch of giggling and whispering, one of these unseasoned babies would approach me and ask me some inane question. I knew where they were going before they could even speak, almost as if I could read their thoughts.

But I digress. There would be at least one simpering female I could easily fuck tonight, in excess. They all looked the same by now, cardboard cut outs of the same two stereotypes: punk or Goth. The "plastic" punks had short spikey hair, chains hanging from here or there on their bodies, piercings galore, tattoos of all shapes and sizes slashing across various portions of their bodies.

Even their clothing was generally typical: black jeans or baggy cargo pants, combat boots or chucks, and some old-school punk rock band T-shirt The other "cut-out" that frequented here were Goths: their classic "style" included dark old-fashioned vamipiristic clothing, black and red combinations, every one of them. Two separate stereo-types melded together with similar mentalities. Quite honestly, they were all really fucking depressing. Death, violence, drugs, hatred: all negative energy builders. And black eyeliner; what the fuck was it about black fucking eyeliner? Even guys wore that shit, and they weren't all gay, believe it or not.

I searched for some sliver of variety, something unique and real in any one of them. One girl stared at me openly, even went as far to stick her finger in her mouth and suck on it. A blatant invitation. But how would the evening progress once she realized I wasn't just going

to fuck her or stick my cock in her mouth, but do some other mildly twisted thing to her in the process? Would she be quite as eager? Most girls were not; no matter how punk or hard they appeared, once they felt the sting of the whip or the nip of my teeth they buckled, turning into simpering, whiny little bitches.

It was why I moved here into the wilds of Washington in the first place. Never had I fit into the norm. The environment I grew up in was stifling, and once I broke free from the bonds of my parents' containment, there was no holding me back. I was dead to them now, a ghost of a person they recalled memories from long ago. Unsatisfied with the deal life handed me, I rebelled; casting aside everyone who had cared about me to venture off alone into uncharted waters. Once broken and hollow, but now, well I suppose satisfied isn't a word I could use, but temporarily content would fit nicely. Content enough to drink myself into near oblivion night after night.

As I exited _Hell,_the member's club, I stretched languidly, extending my arms behind my back and looked around the crazed dance floor once again, trying to find some reason for this excursion into the mass of writhing bodies. Nothing extraordinary, but it was early yet. I leaned against the nearby bar and called out to Vicky, one of the bartenders in this fabulous establishment, for a shot of Patron. She rolled her eyes, but complied, sliding the shot glass across the bar dramatically. She was pretty enough, not my type however. Even if she were, I would do nothing; a man should never shit where he eats, get me? My reputation with the ladies was a bit twisted, since most girls only got a single sampling instead of a repeat performance. I didn't do this by habit. Once I discovered the little annoyances that come out when playing in the bedroom, I would simply not call any of them again.

"You're lucky I caught that," I said without looking at her, as I snatched the shot up before it hit the floor. "I despise alcohol abuse."

I scoffed, throwing back and finishing it with lightning speed. God that shit was good. A mild fire seared a hot path down my throat as my gaze wandered towards the entryway curtains, searching for something, anything to distract me tonight.

A petite girl brushed the curtain aside and stepped through, holding it back for her two friends as she crept inside. The gentle features of her face mixed with her pale skin tone made her look nearly angelic, her dark wavy hair flowed down her back like a pile of clouds caressing her face; she was incredibly distracting. "Keep them coming, Vik." I drawled, throwing the bartender a smirk, then returning to rest on my newest eye candy, as I continued to down shots like a pro. They effectively killed the aftertaste in my throat from the "indulgence" of a few minutes ago, which I could now feel increasing my heart-rate and making me antsy.

She was out of place here, this angelic doll, amidst tattooed punks and whores, all trying to fill their addiction to their personal types of heroin. She screamed fragility, as she stared in morbid fascination at the wave of people practically fucking each other on the dance floor. I gave up this kind of girl what seemed like a lifetime ago: elegant, regal, and sophisticated.

She blushed, turning to one of her companions, a somber looking guy with a mess of wavy blonde hair falling around his face, who whispered something angrily at her; probably something along the lines of "Let's get the hell out of here."

The girl with them looked like a human Barbie, if such a thing actually existed. Fake and plastic; I call them like I see them. She stood there next to the little angel looking ready to breathe fire on everyone who came too near, whilst tapping her foot in agitation; what a shrew. I wouldn't dirty my cock with the bitch, although she was quite a looker. The group stood out like sore thumbs in their designer clothes and haughty expressions. All three of them had to have walked into the wrong bar. This was not the place for debutants and their snooty friends. It was a rave club, for fucks sake!

I looked back to the bar behind me, surprised that there were no more shots coming. Vicky was staring at me expectantly in irritation; what the hell did I miss?

"I thought you hated alcohol abuse," she hissed, motioning towards the floor near my edge of the bar. On the ground by my feet were three shattered shot glasses and small puddles of tequila, wasted due to my strange fascination with this petite baby doll. Fuck! What a mess! "You know, I only keep this crap behind the bar for you. Nobody drinks that shit in a place like this, Mase."

"Just add them to my tab, Vik." I offered, trying to soothe her now ruffled feathers about my lack of attention to my drinking.

"Whatever," she sighed, ringing up the wasted shots decorating my Doc Martens. "You need anything else?" I shook my head and she wandered away, over to a bunch of drunken girls ordering Screaming Orgasms. They really didn't need them; their muscles were already lax, their frames tottering back and forth as if a breeze could knock them over. Two of them gawked openly at me, mouths hanging open. I half expected drool to come out. Fuck! How much more modification do I have to do to lose this "fuck me" face I was cursed with? I had no intention of looking the circus freak; my grandmother was probably spinning in her grave even now at my altered appearance, which to me was on the milder side.

_May I offer my assistance ladies? I could put those mouths to more constructive use, if you like._

A dry laugh escaped my lips at my mental musing. I leaned back my head, my body supported on the bar behind it, eyes closed; enjoying the drunken whirling my overindulgence caused making me slightly dizzy. As I took in a deep breath of stale bar air, a new scent assaulted my nostrils, a soft sweet strawberry honey scent. I opened my eyes slowly, turning my head to rest upon the baby doll, quietly requesting a glass of wine.

She looked even more sweet and innocent up close; definitely in the wrong bar. I breathed in again, wondering if she tasted as good as she smelled. She stiffened, her eyes facing directly forward, as she paid for her drink and lowered her head shyly. Her full lips begged to be nibbled. I leaned in, possibly to do exactly that; determined to at least know her name. A blush slowly rose to her cheeks, indicating she had noticed me leering at her. She licked her lips nervously, and I imagined how hot it would feel if she were licking my dick instead. I stifled a groan. . .

"Hello baby girl," I drawled, getting her attention immediately. Her blush deepened and looked around nervously, probably for the two prep-school rejects she arrived with, before meeting my gaze. It crept from her cheeks, down her throat and settled into the gap between her pert breasts. Perfect hand size; fucking fabulous! This little debutant was dangerous. She blushed so easily; imagine her hue after bobbing up and down on my cock for a while. That thought sent blood rushing straight to the cock in question, causing it to throb and lengthen, attempting to rip right out of my pants towards her. Fuck!

_Clear __your __head, __demon. Girls like that __don't __like the games we like to __play._

She was caviar and champagne while I was pizza and beer. Two complete opposites, perhaps that was what drew me to her. Urges to see how far that blush really went rushed through my mind, engorging my cock uncomfortably. I shook my head to remove the image of bending her over the bar and taking her from behind. So hot. So sexy.

So not gonna happen!

_Find a neutral ground, you perverted fucktard!_

I snapped my head up from staring boldly at her neckline to look into her eyes: innocent and trusting. They were like melted chocolate, warm and soft, like the rest of her features. A more romantic man would drown in them. "Lost?" I asked; raising one eyebrow as a grin began to creep across my face, determined to ruffle her feathers a bit.

"What?" she stammered; her voice as smooth as the honey essence she emitted. I obviously made her nervous. Her gaze darted around behind me once more, searching for that invisible backup that as of yet had not surfaced to defend her. "I. . . wanted a drink." She replied lamely, squaring her shoulders as if she expected a battle to ensue. "What did you just call me?" she queried, her face turning perplexed, her brows drawn together.

"Baby girl," I replied innocently, "It suits you, after all."

She snapped her head back in shock like I had smacked her. "Of all the male-chauvinist. . . My NAME is Isabella, not baby girl, thank you." She slammed her hand down on the bar, like she was a judge with a gavel.

Spirited little filly; I would love to master her and wipe that con- descending glare off of her face. Instead of screaming out her own name like now, I would have her screaming out mine in pleasure as she came, hard. I reached out and deftly raised her hand off the bar, then lifted it to my lips and placed a kiss in her palm, my eyes still fixated on her expressive face as I ran my tongue along the line across it. She stiffened and moved to yank her hand back. I held my grip, although gently, and bowed at her sarcastically.

"Well then, if you insist. Let's be formal, shall we? I'm Anthony Masen. My friends call me Mase, but you can call me whatever you want. Pleased to make your most pleasant acquaintance, baby girl."


	2. Chapter 2 - and Angel

. . . And Angel

BPOV

This place was perfect! Exactly what my parents would NOT expect from me, their perfect little angel, Bella. _Toxic_, it was called. Living a somewhat secluded lifestyle I had no idea what that was supposed to imply; I only knew that the people lined up outside with the desperate urge to be inside made me want to do the same. I was not disappointed; it was packed, people dancing everywhere: the dance floor, on some of the tables, on the winding stairs leading to these cozy little alcoves with curtains decorating each side. I didn't realize that there were this many people living in this dreary ass town; but at least it wasn't as desolate as Forks, the hell on earth my parents decided to move us to.

Expanding our horizons, they called it. Experiencing the world, my dad would boast. More like, Bella, you are a public embarrassment that cannot seem to fit in with our elite group of assholes, so let's move somewhere where we will no longer be horrified by your presence. So, we move to Forks, just lovely. A place where nobody really stood out, they were all quiet rural sheep, following the path to Nowheresville. A place where I could bore myself to death quite easily it appeared. Plus, they send watchdogs, the Hale Twins. Little did my mom and dad know that the Hales were just like me, stuck in a lifestyle that really didn't suit them. We searched out little adventures, and sometimes those same adventures got us in hot water, like in LA.

I didn't want to think about that debacle; instead I focused on the one prior, my Robin Hood escapade. Imagine their horror, two of the upper crust, having to bail their only daughter out of jail for breaking into a Salvation Army and throwing bags full of clothes out into the crowded alleys of downtown LA so the homeless there could have something to wear. My parents thought I was insane, but hear me out. Those clothes are donated from others for the needy. Why in the name of God should they have to pay for them? The Robin Hood of cast-off clothes was what the LA Times called me.

My mother cried and hung her head in shame, appalled that her sweet daughter would steal when I could have just bought new clothes to give these people with my allowance. Ok, I could have, but what fun was that? Throwing the brick into the window, stuffing musty smelling clothes in bags, and speeding down the street, throwing clothes out like a Santa Claus for the homeless; that was the adrenaline pumping kind of adventure I sought.

Thus, my father contacted Mr. Hale about the potential of his two children becoming my "companions". More like watchdogs, but they are much cooler than I originally assumed they would be. They didn't keep me out of trouble, however; with my insane need to get involved in things my parents never approved of. I wanted to volunteer at the local orphanage; denied. Serve soup as a shelter for the homeless; denied. Boycott a local cosmetics company that participated in animal testing on products; denied.

Give my brand-new car to a poor guy who just totaled his in an accident and had no other means to get to work; even that was denied. They felt that it was society's job to take care of these "degenerates", not ours. Charitable people, my parents were not.

I listened with half an ear as Jasper hissed at me that we shouldn't be here. "It's a druggie club," he whispered in shock. Oh please, what a stereotype. Because the patrons looked different, Jazz would assume they were all drug addicts. He stood in front of me, hands on his hips, his displeasure evident on every crease on his forehead.

He ought to stop, because wrinkles would not be his friend. Rosalie stood unmoving on my other side, tapping her foot in annoyance.

Apparently neither of the Hales were thrilled with me at the moment. But I couldn't really blame them; I promised them adventure tonight, more adventure than we would find in the upper crest of Los Angeles. I exaggerated, obviously. Los Angeles had way more ways to get into mischief than one stand-alone rave bar in a town that was maybe a tenth of the size of my old hometown. I was sure this was not what they had in mind when I announced to my parents that we were going exploring and would be back before 12. I was surprised they let me leave the house, since midnight is way past the curfew I had at home. Then again, I never went ANYWHERE back at home.

I took in the set-up of the Club, amazed at the vibrant yet relaxing atmosphere. I scanned the crowd, looking for any sign that my friends and I seemed out of place here. We definitely stood out, standing here dressed like the preppies we were raised as. Rosalie had on this elegant little cocktail dress, that left little to the imagination. And Jasper was sporting a dress shirt and tie; really Jazz, a tie? Seriously, that was not exactly what I was going for when I said, "dress for a bar, I am sure we can find one to let us inside."

At least I went somewhat low-key, with a blue empire cut top and a pair of black pants. But this place was wall-to-wall punks: spiked hair and Mohawks, leather and chains, tattoos and piercings, anywhere you could possibly imagine. Wild and uninhibited, exactly what I wish my life could be like.

No one paid us any mind, even though we looked like we were ready for prom or something, and I grew disappointed that this might not be the adrenaline rush I was looking for. Maybe I needed a drink to loosen me up first. I scanned around for an open spot at the bar, locating one right in the middle next to this astonishingly attractive guy, leaning his elbows back on the bar like he owned the place. His facial tattoo was the first thing that grabbed my attention; a tribal symbol that curved almost around his left eye then swept across his cheekbone down almost to his chin.

A horizontal eyebrow piercing danced across his left eyebrow above it, an unusual angle for a piercing like that but it suited him well some- how. Two matching eyebrow barbells, almost touching ran through his other eyebrow, and one small barbell lay right on the bridge of his nose. The bottom part of his face was clean shaven and unadorned, aside for a single lip ring right smack in the center of his bottom lip.

His body was lean and athletic, his neck, shoulders and arms also scattered with various tribal ink. His skintight black wife-beater left nothing to the imagination in the realm of muscles. Loose cargo pants were held up by a black spiked belt, adorned by an unusually shiny silver MASEN buckle. He definitely wasn't the type of guy one brings home to meet daddy; even my seasoned father would have an apoplexy. He looked dangerous; his expressions mirroring a predator as he eyed the club patrons with distaste, dismissing them with one quirk of his eyebrow. Yet I stared at him fascinated, curious as to why he stood out in this sea of tattooed and pierced people.

He was devilishly handsome; panty peeling hot, as Rosalie would put it. There was also this air of mystery about him; a quality that sparked my interest immediately.

I took a deep breath, willing myself not to be nervous as I headed towards the bar. I needed a fucking drink; something to make this night memorable; something to loosen me up. As I approached, he leaned his head back, closing his eyes. A dragon tattoo leered at me from his neck as I got closer, almost close enough to reach out and touch him. He smelled like cigarettes and sandalwood; an unusual combination yet somehow arousing.

_Stop staring Bella! You look like a freaking groupie, gawking at him like he was a rock star or something!_

The bartender approached, startling me from my avid fascination with this strange man. She smiled gently at me, shaking her head. Did she know him? Did she know what I was thinking? Of course, she did, and she thought I was absolutely ridiculous for my fascination, I was sure. I asked for a glass of Pinot Grigio, my mother's favorite wine and hoped the bartender didn't ask for any ID. I am sure serving an underager wine was not allowable here, but we had no problem gaining entrance to the club, after flashing a few bills, of course.

I saw him shift out of the corner of my eye. Was he staring at me? My body began to tingle pleasurably, an unusual reaction from the "prude" as my friends from LA liked to call me. I stiffened and lowered my head, not knowing what I could possibly say to him, yet wanting nothing more than to talk to this magnificent man. He leaned towards me, causing me to panic. He was so close I could feel his breath on my cheek.

Goosebumps formed on my arms as I felt the heat of my blush begin to creep to my cheeks. God, what if I say something stupid? My lips were suddenly dry as the Sahara; I licked them to keep them from cracking.

_Keep it together, Bella._

"Hello, baby girl," he drawled, causing me to look up at him in surprise. His voice was as sexy as the rest of him, if that were possible: molten lava mixed with velvet. Was he talking to me? His eyes were the color of melted gold, probably melted from that lava hot voice of his. I glanced around, looking for my currently missing friends and to see if there was anyone he might have been talking to besides me.

His eyes wandered from my face and trailed a path down to my chest. My cheeks felt like they were on fire! He obviously WAS talking to me, and now he was ogling my chest with deep intent. After a few uncomfortable and somehow hot moments, he snapped his head back up to look into my eyes, a devilish twinkling sparkling from within his.

"Lost?" he asked in a slightly amused tone; what the hell was that supposed to mean? So, I DID look out of place here. Well that fucking sucked. I was really starting to like this place and wanted to be able to blend in here.

"What?" I stammered nervously. "I. . . wanted a drink." I replied, stating the obvious. He continued to stare at me intently, like a predator stalking its prey: extremely unnerving and exciting. I thought back to his greeting, and the strange pet name a complete stranger just used on me. Perhaps I misheard him. "What did you just call me?" I questioned, still wondering if I had been hearing things.

"Baby girl," he replied innocently, "It suits you, after all."

_He just __compared __you to a __baby! __Is that how he __sees __you, an __innocent __child?!_

Fuck! Here I was, looking at him like this sex god and he's imagining me in freaking diapers! My horrible temper took control, making me shake in anger. "Of all the male-chauvinist. . . My NAME is Isabella, not baby girl, thank you." I banged my hand on the bar in emphasis; amazed that I actually told him my full name, not the nickname I preferred everyone use. Completely unaffected by my little rant, he grabbed my hand and lifted it to his face.

I panicked for a second, thinking for some reason he was about to bite me; ridiculous, I know, but it popped into my mind for some reason. Instead he pulled my palm to his mouth and kissed it gently. He ran his tongue along it, the warm feeling marred by a sliver of cold metal. I pulled my hand back or at least tried to. He held on to it and bowed sarcastically, grinning at me like a raving loon.

"Well then, if you insist. Let's be formal, shall we? I'm Anthony Masen. My friends call me Mase, but you can call me whatever you want. Pleased to make your most pleasant acquaintance, baby girl."

He practically purred at me. His voice was so hot my knees almost buckled. Damn, no man should have such a hot combination of body, face and voice. It was driving me completely wild! I stared dumbly down at my hand, still encased in his, unable to put two words together.

Before I could figure out what to say, Jasper came stalking up behind us, glaring at me in irritation, Rosie at his heals. "Bella, what in God's name are you doing fraternizing with the likes of HIM?" he barked out, sounding entirely too snotty for his own good. Mase's eyes widened, one eyebrow arched in irritation as he whipped around to face Jazz, a snarl forming to mar his perfect lips.

"The likes of me, pipsqueak? What the fuck is THAT supposed to mean, exactly?" He waved his arm around the room, pointing out the type of people we were mingled in with here. "You're playing in MY sandbox here, fuck face! I come here to avoid your kind: snobby, spoiled, prudish little cheese dicks! Why don't you and your cheap whore behind you get fucking lost! I'll keep Bella company." He leered at me as he spoke, causing a slight shiver in my bones.

"Right, baby girl?" he whispered leaning in closer to my face, his lips nearly touching mine. I gasped softly as I felt a rush of warm moisture pool into my panties. My heartbeat raced so quickly I could swear everyone around me could hear it, trying to pound out of my chest.

Rosalie looked about in shock at his endearment; her emerald green eyes trying to burn a hole straight through him. Jazz looked somewhat dangerous himself, and generally people avoided confrontations with him; they all knew about his temper, and what happens when he loses control of it. But Mase was right; we were in his territory, a place where we were outsiders. Jazz should have known better, but as I said before they were pissed at me, so he was just acting out.

"Bella," he hissed, "You drug us to this Freak Show, remember? So, can you at least keep us company here. Rosie has been crudely propositioned five times already! It's hard to keep her from beating the crap out of people!"

He was right; it was horrible of me to desert them here, even for a few minutes. Neither of them chose to come, merely did so to protect me, aid me in my madness. Rose had a temper to equal Jazz's; it seemed a common trait among my closest confidants and myself. Our outbursts embarrassed our "station," as my mother so aptly put it, since upper class people were supposed to be able to curb such barbaric tendencies.

She tried anything to keep me docile and calm: therapy, medication, even shopping sprees. What sweet angelic Renee couldn't understand was I was unhappy in my "station." A bored, lifeless, waste of flesh who found absolutely no pleasure in anything that was "acceptable." There had to be something wrong with me. There had to be something broken in a girl who finds a rugged, wild, and uninhibited guy attractive when his entire demeanor screams "caution - stay back." But there was something else about him, something he kept hidden under the surface. I couldn't pinpoint it exactly, or understand why I wasn't afraid of him.

He glanced at Jasper, who was waving his finger in my face like an angry parent. "Down boy, it's my fault. Being the seedy type of scoundrel that I am, I thought to overwhelm your fair lady with my dangerous looks and charm, sneak her out the back door and have my wicked way with her. But you arrived just in time, saving her virtue from my incredibly nimble fingers." He clapped his hands together dramatically, rolling his eyes. His voice was low and rushed, his narrowed eyes focusing on Jazz.

He turned back to me for a moment, and whispered softly, "Well, baby girl, I better go before your bodyguards attempt to take me on." He lifted his hand and cupped my face, staring one last time into my eyes. "But I will see you again. Trust me." He ran his forefinger down my cheek roughly, sighed and moved away.

"I'd like to say it has been a pleasure to meet you all; but unfortunately. . ." he looked at me and paused, biting lightly down on his lower lip reflectively. "Most of you are the types of people I avoid." He stalked away, heading toward the door near this huge mirror on the far side wall. That was the last glimpse I had of him for the rest of the night, but somehow, I had this odd feeling as we drank and danced like fools that I was being watched.


	3. Chapter 3 - Drunk

Drunk . . .

EPOV

I slammed down shot after shot, furious with myself for letting that little prick get to me. Fucktard! He was lucky that this place was a second home to me, or I would show the little dickhead why he should be careful who he fucks with. I slammed my shot glass on the bar violently and asked for a straight Jack, chilled. The bartender rolled her eyes at me but brought back the cold glass as requested and sauntered away in a huff when I didn't acknowledge her otherwise. She was one of my not-so smart fuck-buddies, why I picked someone who worked here to take home is beyond me. She was much more fucking trouble than she was worth. She was a cold little bitch; making her come was way too much fucking effort for the likes of me.

I looked back out to where I left the "baby girl"; noticing the aggravated way he moved as he berated her for talking to "the likes of me". Suave and debonair; a true blue-blood. Ironically enough, he was exactly my sister's type. His accent made his words somewhat together, like melting ice cream flavors. His hair was overlong, hanging around his face in waves. He emanated smoothness, arrogance, and confidence. Denied nothing in his life, I was positive. A fucking spoiled bloody rotten prep-boy. Who the fuck did this cocksucker think he was? The likes of me? He was lucky I didn't grab the girl and show him what she COULD be doing with the likes of me if he hadn't decided to cock block me earlier.

The alcohol soothed me, burning down my throat like a vampire's venom. The burning distracted me from the empty hole I had inside, a hole unable to mend. A hole caused by people like that. I reached for my cigarettes and tossed one up to my mouth, catching it between my lips with ease. I dug through the pocket for my zippo, becoming agitated when my fingers slipped out a hole in the bottom of my pocket.

Fuck Me! I lost another mother-fucking zippo?! Could this day get and fucking worse Masen?

I should just carry a bic; some cheapo lighter I could care less about. But no, I had to have a personalized lighter that screamed out whom it belonged to. Always black with MASE on the front, the phrase "Never Forget" engraved on the flip side. If it seemed a bit obsessive to keep getting the same exact lighter, I consoled myself with the justification that lots of people had personalized shit, so why not personalize my lucky zippo? But somehow, even with my name screaming out from the front of it, none of my missing zippos ever resurfaced once I had lost them.

_Not very lucky if you keep losing it, asshole!_

I reached over the bar to get some matches, snatching a pack before the bartender even noticed, and lit my cig. I took a drag before searching the crowd for her again, becoming agitated when I couldn't find her. Had they finally decided to leave? Realized they didn't belong here? Why did I give a fucking shit? How has this one girl become an obsession in a matter of minutes? What is it about her that is driving me absolutely wild?

I caught a glimpse of her then, trying to maneuver through the dance floor, towards the mirrored glass which camouflaged me from her view. The luxury of _Hell_, having the creepy perk of being able to stalk your "victim" without alerting your prey. I chuckled darkly at that thought, prey indeed.

She approached the bar, staring at her own reflection. What caused her to sit by the door directly across from me was unknown, but I couldn't get a better view of her than this. I could memorize every detail of her face without fear of discovery. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her, this fragile butterfly trying so hard to break free from her protective cocoon. I saw it in her eyes: rebellion and passion: wild, uninhibited, animalistic passion. Waiting quietly under the surface for someone to discover and explore it. What I wouldn't do to be the one to unleash her!

I wanted to be the one to make her purr, have her scream out my name in need; begging me to ease her blinding need for release. Imagining that soft, gentle voice panting my name made my dick throb without mercy, its own need unfulfilled. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to adjust myself without gaining any attention from the other members lounging about the area. Christ, I was hard.

She probably thought I was a complete jackass. As I recalled my sarcasm to her friend, I winced inwardly. "Down boy, it's my fault. Being the seedy type of scoundrel that I am, I thought to overwhelm your fair lady with my dangerous looks and charm, sneak her out the back door and have my wicked way with her. But you arrived just in time, saving her virtue from my incredibly nimble fingers." I had mocked, rolling my eyes at him for his attempted gallantry.

My camouflage worked all too well at times. At other times. . . I shook my head. The thought of my new attracting shivering in fear at the rage I tend to emanate disturbed me. Now shivering in other ways, however. . . I was heading into deep waters with this one. If I didn't get my head screwed on straight, I would be right back where I fucking started and that is un-fucking-acceptable.

_Never forget, Mase! Don't get too close._

I avoided women like her like the plague. It was one of my few rules: no rich bitches. They were cold-hearted and venomous, thinking they should be handed your dick and brain on a silver platter. These three were obviously of that ilk. Pampered little debutants and gentlemen; sipping their tea and mingling with the elite. Yet, although she symbolized all that I despised, my mind rushed through a million questions about her: Was she like the rest, the girls I despised? Was she as innocent as she appeared? Why had they come here, to the middle of nowhere, Washington? Where did she come from? Did she live in Port Angeles? And why in the fuck did I give a shit? The list went on and on, each question made me angrier that I gave a shit. Yet somehow, they kept coming.

Had she seen me come in here? Could she sense me watching her? Did she know how badly I wanted to grab her and slam her against the bar? How I longed to run my hands up the back of her top to caress what must be baby soft skin? How I had to keep myself in check to keep from jumping out of my seat, burst out of the private club, rip off her clothes, and take her against the bar roughly, making her whimper in need while everyone watched? What the hell was wrong with me? Christ, I was absolutely losing it! I ordered another Jack chilled, and threw it back like it was one of my shots.

_She's not your type: too innocent, too naïve. You would eat her alive!_

A what a fucktastic meal THAT would be, I assure you. She would love every mother-fucking minute of it. I could imagine her taunting me: bending forward, pout in place; a naughty girl in desperate need of a spanking. I would, of course comply, causing adrenaline to pump through her, increasing her pleasure. She would promise to behave in the future, moaning and writhing against my body. I would, of course, kiss and massage the pain away afterwards; although rough, I was not a selfish lover. She would learn to love the lifestyle, dancing between the realms of pleasure and pain; submitting to me in every possible way imaginable.

I never felt I was hardcore enough to call myself a Dom. Seemed like a personal form of slavery really, treating your lovers more like animals; throwing them a bone when needed. Don't get me wrong, I knew and respected the Dominants I associated with. It just wasn't my style. I was rough, violent, and sarcastic. I loved fucking women. I loved hearing them come, screaming my name out as if I were a god. I loved mastering them, knowing that they would dream of me for weeks, hell for months afterwards; wanting more, needing my cock inside them. It made me feel all-powerful in a world where I was powerless in the past. I chose when. I picked who. And I controlled where, even if it was in a crowded club, like this one.

I could fuck that little angel on the dance floor and no one would think fucking twice about it. Well, if she was wearing a skirt, and not pants that armored her against easy access, I could. The pants made things a bit more complicated. In one of the alcoves, perhaps? With the curtains closed no one would be the wiser. I would love to suck on her neck and put small bite marks all over her body. Tease her nipples and clit with my tongue ring. Change this shy and fragile creature into a sadistic nymphomaniac; that would be fucking beautiful!

Her friends posed yet another complication. I was sure that the snotty prick wouldn't think too kindly of me fucking the shit out of his innocent looking friend; I had just met her after all. They fulfilled their jobs as bodyguards this night, for without them I would have conveniently forgotten my vow against fucking richies and rocked her fucking world! It wouldn't have been hard; I noticed her morbid fascination the moment she set eyes on me.

_You sure are confident, Mase. Maybe the hot little bitch thinks you are slime-ridden trash!_

I glanced to the end of the bar, where Lauren, my most recent fuck-buddy disaster, as I mentioned before, was working behind the bar, and waved her over. "Yo, get me a bag, Lau?" I whispered in muted tones as she leaned in close, brushing her breast across my arm in the process. She turned to look at me, the invitation in her eyes. I shook my head, letting her down quick and easy. Her generic features twisted into a scowl and she stormed off to the back, hopefully to get my fucking bag.

_I never should have stuck my dick in that bitch! How high was I, anyway?_

Relationships like the one I shared with Lauren were generally rare. We had the "talk", my guidelines of our unique kind of friendship on the first "date" The only rule: if it got weird or uncomfortable in public; it was over. No discussion. Friends with benefits: no ties, non-exclusive. I fucked who I wanted, and vice versa; uncomplicated and uninhibited. No petty jealousies involved. I don't play that game, the "let's make him jealous" game. I don't do jealous. It's pointless and time-consuming. It's much easier just finding a new distraction, from my perspective. I digress.

She wholeheartedly agreed, which hadn't surprised me. She had been eying my dick for weeks, staring at my crotch almost 24/7. The first couple of weeks were cool, a great way to start a weekend, or let off some steam after hours. I was perfectly content. But all that went out the window when she picked a fight with one of my lady friends in here one night causing a huge scene. Once "my man" flew out of her mouth, it was game over.

I took her to my place, knowing it was time to cut the cord. She came over eagerly; I generally do not entertain, aka 'fuck like an animal' at my place. The door hadn't even been completely shut before she started screeching like a howler monkey about the bitch at the club, which caused me to immediately lose my temper. I took her over my knee, spanking her ass repeatedly for using that tone of voice on me. Her rear was bright red and swollen by the time we were done, her sobbing how sorry she was, blah blah blah. Generally, I used spanking in foreplay, a teasing kind that heightened your body's arousal through the release of your body's adrenaline. That nights' was meant to scare her off, make her move to brighter horizons.

Go ahead, hate me; call me a cocksucker! But let me tell you, I would do it again in a second! She fucking deserved that shit! Some people just can't learn common courtesy without a firm wake up call. She had submissive tendencies; I knew she wouldn't be emotionally scarred from the experience. However, as a dominant would have eased her pain afterwards; I walked away from her tear-filled eyes. As I said previously, I am not, nor will I ever be, Dominant material, at least not with a bitch like that! Fuck her and her aftercare shit; she made her own bed, now she had to lie in it.

Leaving her to take a shower, I came to the brilliant conclusion that I should have known better than to fuck a girl that worked at _Toxic_. Never mix business with pleasure, and to me, that establishment was both. Combining some stupid slut to the mix was just asking for trouble! She has sulked around like a wounded dog ever since, brushing against me and gawking at every available opportunity. She came storming back out of the back a few moments later, with a pack of "cigarettes" for me, and laid them on the table. "Marcus said it's on the house." She glanced back at the closed door with this ugly expression and wandered off. She was utterly bizarre; but at least I got free shit out of the deal.

As I pocketed my stash I wondered if my little rich girl out there would like being spanked. Her daddy probably beat the crap out of her with a belt when she was young, most rich fuckers did. I would not be as harsh the first time: I would slowly ease her pants off her legs, exposing the soft pale curves of her buttocks; massaging them with my hands. Would she enjoy the sting of my hand and the soothing rubbing afterward? Me kissing the pain away with my lips while

nipping the skin teasingly with my teeth. I bet she would; purring under my hand while grinding her crotch against my leg as I chastised her gently. I imagined her hand slipping between us, to grip my cock through the taut material at my crotch. My dick lengthened another inch as the visual of it crossed my mind, bucking against my pants, trying to break free of the restraint.

_You're gonna give yourself brush-burn, you fucking tool-bag!_

I groaned, painfully aroused with no outlet nearby. Knowing that my fantasies were not getting me anything but a rock-hard cock and blue balls, I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, trying to erase the images of her naked flesh bucking against mine erotically. Not helping, Mase. I needed to get out of here, before my impulses got me in a huge amount of trouble. I stood up from my seat too quickly, causing me to stumble into the wall. My vision blurred; I shook my head a few times in an attempt to clear my line of sight. How many shots did I drink tonight? Felix, one of the bouncers, approached me cautiously, probably due to my last run in with him. Broke the fucker's nose; that's what you get when you attempt to flag me.

"Mase, need a ride home man? You look like shit." He mentioned cautiously.

I shook my head, replying in a slur, "No man, I'll walk. Can you bring my bike in though? Don't want it stolen." A 1969 Harley Davidson Sportster XLCH would get stolen in a fucking heartbeat around here. It was the only thing I loved, besides this night club, of course. I learned the hard way that loving women was not worth the heartache. Love was just another way for God to fuck you, after all; making you a mindless pussy.

At his assurance that I would have a bike tomorrow, I left through the fire escape, not wanting the "crowd" to see me all fucked up. Tackling the stairs proved challenging, since they kept swerving around on me. I almost did a headfirst to the ground a couple times. Once on solid ground, I stumbled ungracefully along the way, realizing after about 20 minutes how long a fucking walk it was to my complex.

I practically fell dead onto the lobby floor when I finally got there. New Moon: the condominium complex I currently called home. The front desk clerk looked up from his magazine, eying me with disgust. I threw up a hand, in what I hoped was a wave, greeting the belligerent fellow as pleasantly as I could under the circumstances.

"Mr. Masen" he whined as I passed, his nasal voice making me cringe like the sound of fingernails against a chalkboard. His head lifted briefly, his nose peeking out from above his magazine. Realizing he didn't have anything requiring his attention, he lowered the nose back into the periodical, tsking here and grumbling there. Creepy fucking weirdo! Maybe he is reading Playgirl; fags loved the articles in there. I assumed him a fag because he works night shift at New Moon; instead of venturing out attempting to get laid.

Why thank you, Captain Obvious. He works night shift at the condo; when is he supposed to get laid?

"Danny" I mumbled back as I headed for the elevator, hoping to God I hadn't lost my keys with my fucking lighter today. I hadn't. I guess tonight wasn't a total flush. I saw the answering machine light blinking as soon as I closed my door. Saying I was surprised by this would be an understatement, no one ever called me at home. Only the garage had my number; hopefully there wasn't some insane emergency at the shop. I crossed the room to play the message, not bothering to turn the lights on.

"Hello Lauren? It's Alice, calling you back. You mentioned you could help me locate my brother, Edward? Please call me. I am just worried sick about him. I haven't heard back from you; if you get this message, please tell him I love him and want him to call me."

Fucking Lauren; I should have known not to bring her here. Vindictive little bitch called my fucking sister? What a fucking whore! Saying she was doing that to get even would be an understatement, but how did she even find out about my family in the first place? I had to bring her that one time, to break up with her. I could have ended it at the fucking club and been done with it. FUCK MY LIFE!

"Is this even the right number? Is Edward there with you? Are you listening to this message?" She paused, reminding me of times when we were young: she would just stare off into space, then come up with incredibly perceptive 'premonitions' about the future. "Edward, are you there? Please call me back. We are all worried about you. It's been months!"

I snarled at the machine, pissed that my private number now had to be changed. Why the fuck would Lauren start shit like this? I still see her at the club all the time! "I know you will hear this message, Edward. Don't you snarl at me! Call me back; just let me know you are alive, ok? I won't bother you; I promise!"

Intuitive pixie. DAMN IT! I told them to consider me dead; I wanted no ties to my old life; my past was best forgotten. I was weak then: overemotional and naïve. It got me absolutely nowhere; easy prey for the wicked mind-fuckers I used to call friends. Here I was free; free to live how I wanted and fuck whom I chose. There was no going back. Nothing, absolutely nothing could make me return to that hell, those memories of betrayal. I would never forgive nor ever forget! I threw the machine against the wall, smashing it.

Now that I had time to clear my head, I realized I was in dangerous territory with the "baby girl". Unknowingly, this small sexy female had ripped open wounds I had thought healed six months ago. I needed to stay as far away from her as possible, to avoid falling into her "trap". We were incompatible, end of story. Now if I could just get the image of her out of my fucking head!

I threw myself down on the couch and reached for the remote, enraged about the vindictive quality all women in my life seemed to possess in some shape or form. As the TV came to life and I flipped through the channels, I glanced around my almost bare living room: No decorative hangings or picture frames cluttered the shelves or tables; no interesting artwork cluttering the room. Just a couch, chairs, tables, a floor lamp, and my flat panel TV decorated the area, completely bland and unexciting. Oh, and one single ashtray, for my butts. Can't ash on the carpet, get me? Everything was placed with exact precision to what was pleasing to the eye. . . except that pile of plastic and circuitry that lay in a broken heap in the corner, next to the nice size hole in my wall. FUCK!

_Fucking Lauren!__I'd love to slit her obsessive __throat!_

I had to deal with that little bitch first thing tomorrow. Didn't she have any idea who she was fucking with?

I continued to flip channels, looking for anything to distract me from that little rich girl. No good porn on the tube tonight, no good flicks, not even a car or bike renovation program to pique my interest. Fucking nada! I flipped the TV off, tossing the remote next to me on the couch. I lit a cig, thinking about the past night and my interaction with "Bella".

_So much for getting her out of your head. . ._

Regardless of how much I attempt to divert myself, the facts here were simple. Deep down I knew that I wasn't going to let it go or give up on the plan to possess her; to completely overwhelm and captivate her until I got what I wanted. Deep down my fear was that she would succeed where the others had failed, and break through my protective armor. I never wanted to feel the weight of emotional abandon ever again!

_She'd be a hot fuck though, Mase._

Shut the fuck up!

I glanced back at the mess in the corner, knowing I had to not only change my number tomorrow but get a new fucking answering machine now. Maybe I should just invest in a cell. No bitches can fuck up my shit that way. Well, she was in for it now. That little bitch was going to get hers, in spades!

With thoughts of sweet vengeance floating through my brain, I reached into my pocket, to remove the "cig pack" and threw it on the coffee table. If I did any of that shit now, I would never get any sleep tonight; and I did have work tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4 - and Sober

Chapter 4 ~ and Sober

BPOV

The say that the Hales condescending attitudes towards Mase infuriated me would be putting it mildly. I was horrified when they started in, verbally assaulting him like predators, belittling him by snubbing him like he was a low-life. His flare of temper had been hot, and after he stormed away, I wandered towards the door he had rushed through during his hasty exit. A lone bouncer stood outside the door, a neon sign flashing _Hell _above it; another bar, perhaps?

Too afraid to test my luck gaining entrance, I sat at the bar nearest the door, hoping that perhaps he would reappear and I could talk to him again. I had this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever he was near, like butterflies were fluttering around in a frenzy to get out. Accompanying that was a pleasurable but inconvenient wetness that moistened my panties, making me shift my legs back and forth in an attempt to get comfortable.

My friends stood behind me like guard dogs, arms crossed and nosed in the air like they were royalty bombarded by commoners in a marketplace. I shifted in the stool I was perched on, glaring at them both. Once my wits came back to me, I was mortified that these two inevitably ruined something before it could even take off. Having my choices made for me had never been ok for me, and my anger erupted.

"WHAT the FUCK that was THAT? Since when are you two such judgmental fucking assholes?" I spat angrily at the twins.

Rose rolled her eyes at me, tilting her head to the side as she replied "Whatever, Bella. This place gives me the heebies, and totally not our style. Have you noticed the leering drooling Neanderthals surrounding us? Not to mention the skanks glaring at us like they want to slit our throats for invading their…. Their… cesspool of drunkenness?! We don't belong here!"

I shook my head at her, slowly regaining my composure. Rosalie wasn't comfortable in crowds in general, tending to shy away from most physical contact. Her bitchiness was an armor really, shielding her from harm, in a world where even your name and wealth couldn't protect you from predators of society. "You aren't even trying, Rosalie. Look at this from the other side of the fence. If any of these people strode intone of your little tea houses or country clubs, sticking out like a sore thumb and treating you all like you were worthless, would you smile and act like you wanted them to stay? Act like an outsider and you are sure as fuck going to be treated like one!

I thought both of you were above this level of snobbery. We came here to start over; attacking everyone who is different is not going to get you anywhere but back to the starting line. You two may not have used fists, but verbal violence is abuse too." I glanced at Jasper, who looked partially repentant, swaying as he shifted from foot to foot, his eyes downcast like a reprimanded child.

"I'm even more disappointed in you Jazz," I scolded softly, "You'll never make the friends you are frantic for by treating people that way. You threw a label on Mase immediately, something you HATED being done to you back home." Jasper looked up at me in surprise; realization crossing his face as it dawned on him that he was no better than the bullies and haters back in LA. When my family threw this move on us, we were determined to start fresh here, where no one really knew who the Swans or Hales; a place where we could try to blend in like regular people.

_Regular people…._

Hard to believe a high society princess or prince could want normalcy, right? Being just Bella, instead of Isabella, was the brass ring I always reached for. Having the ability to go to a bar, hang out without fear of someone trying to get something from you in one way or another. These people around us didn't fear scandal, kidnapping, or robbery. No one judged them for getting drunk, dancing excitedly or making rash decisions. It was…. Freedom. And I want it; I ached for it. Freedom to just…. Be.

I glanced towards the dance floor, the urge to expel some of this energy nearly overwhelming me. I sigh dejectedly, knowing that the chances of coercing either of these tow out on the dance floor were slim to fucking none.

"Bells, we should probably head back. Your dad will have a search party out if we get in too late." Jasper quietly reminds me. He leans forward, leaning his head against mine briefly. "I'm sorry. I was an ass. Forgive me?" he whispers, as Rosalie sighs in the background. "I'll try harder; I don't know what came over me. It's a bit extreme for a start off point, and I lash out when I feel threatened."

I lift my head and run my hand through his curls, tousling them playfully. "I'll forgive you this time, Jazzy. But remember, Karma she is a cruel bitch, my friend."

Jasper chuckles, shaking his head at me. "Whatever you say, Bells."

Surprisingly enough, our return home was uneventful, and eerily quiet. The Hales seems deep in thought, which I was unsure how to take. Did my scolding have an effect on the stubborn pair, or were they silently plotting some form of retaliation?

I shook that negativity off, as it was merely my paranoia getting the better of me… right?


	5. Chapter 5 - Cursed

**A/N ****I figure you all have been tortured enough by my lack of updated over the past... forever; so i am giving you Mase... again. **

**Thank Snoopylover60, yea? And my lovely IcarusToSun. Cause these lovely ladies are the reason it is going up here today. Thanks for making me feel like this is worthwhile to pick back up! **

**Thanks to MarieCarro, who visualized my tortured demon for me, she is AMAZING! **

EPOV

I awoke in a daze, unsure of the time, by this horrible screeching sound, blaring at me from my bedside table. I jerked my head towards the offending sound, opening one eye briefly to locate the source of my torment: my alarm.

_Just fucking perfect._

I ran my hand through my hair in agitation and smacked the snooze button; knowing there would only be a mere 15 minutes of peace before the caterwauling started again. My head felt like it had been hit by a brick, or maybe a whole fucking ton of them. Fuck. This was definitely a day I wished I didn't have to work. Knowing calling out was not an option, and dreading hearing that god-awful screech again, I crawled from bed and stumbled into the bathroom; hoping a cold shower would help wake me up and clear my head a bit before work.

The cold water provided little relief to either of my aching heads. My dick throbbed from a combination of morning wood, lack of relief from last night's adventure, and the fuck-hot dream I had about that sweet little debutant from the bar. I rubbed one out half-heartedly, preferring sexual gratification from others over masturbation. But desperate times called for desperate measures; showing up at the garage with a massive hard-on was NOT an option. I dressed quickly; realizing almost too late that I had no mode of transportation handy, with my bike being at the club and all that happy horse shit.

_That's what you get for being a degenerate scumbag, Mase._

Knowing my plans for the evening would take me back to the club at some point this evening for my bike, I called a cab and popped a couple of aspirins, hoping it would kill the thumping in my head before I reached the garage. The cabbie was a douche, taking all kinds of "short-cuts". In people terms it meant he was taking the long way. I arrived just as the lights inside the garage went on, meaning I wasn't late enough for Spike to be bothered by it. My boss was pretty laid back, but the one he was a real stickler for was the schedule.

I strolled into the office and eyed the job board for the day, which seemed light for a Friday, and approached Spike, aka Spencer, for my worksheet. He was a freak about schedules, as I mentioned before, and printed up worksheets listing the jobs and details on what the customer needed done to their cars for each mechanic ahead of time, to avoid missed deadlines or incomplete work. This way we didn't have to keep wandering through the office to gather details throughout the day, unless it was a walk-in. It made sense if you were obsessed with being organized like my boss clearly was. He peered up from the coffee machine near the shop door, and grinned, some private joke twinkling in his eyes as he spoke.

"Rough night, Mase?" he mocked. "You look like shit, mate." He sounded like a combination of an Englishman and Aussie, his accent strange yet soothing to the ears. "Good thing I gave you the easy shit today. You might blow someone's car up otherwise." He joked as he reached to the desk and practically paperwork at me. I sneered at him in irritation; I was the best mechanic he had, and never let my indulgences affect my work. I had too much pride to fuck up my clients' cars. I opened my mouth to explain just that when he chuckled, holding his fist in front of his mouth as little wrinkles formed by his eyes alight with humor; obviously he was trying to get a rise out of me today. Bastard!

"I'm fucking with you man. You have a transmission rebuild and an engine knock to look at today, with a few minimal routine maintenance jobs. What's got you so bent? Didn't get laid last night?" He joked casually, while pouring himself a cup and drinking it straight.

I grimaced at the action, not trying to be a pansy about it but that shit is gross on its own. I'd rather do shots of motor oil, and the likeliness of that happening was slim to none. Was it that obvious? Did my stance scream blue balls? I could have grabbed some nameless bitch from the club and taken her back to my place for a couple of rounds; I had several invitations before _she _showed up. But how could I bring some cute little number home when all I could think about was the hot little princess I really wanted? So, I drank myself into oblivion instead of doing what I had wanted to do from the moment I spotted her: grab her and high-tail it to my place, where I could show her what "my type of people" did for fun and excitement.

I shook off the thought, pissed at myself for thinking about her, again. "I went a few rounds too many with a bottle of tequila last night." I admitted reluctantly, hoping he didn't get pissed about it. The last thing I needed was to be looking for a new job right now, and besides, I really liked this place. The guys were down to earth; real people instead of phonies and posers. The atmosphere was positively charged, these guys were my family than the one I left behind. I hoped he would understand; he had shit of his own going on at home. He nodded slowly at my confession; his expression filling with compassion before he spoke again

"Gotta watch that Patron, Masen. It will kick your ass." His grin popped out once again, quickly replaced by a sarcastically serious expression. "Now get to work, slacker!"

It was almost noon by the time I finished the transmission job, and I was heading to the office to clock-out for lunch when I saw her, leaning against the service counter inside. She faced Spike, motioning with her left hand dramatically, dressed casually in a blue Old Navy T-shirt and a pair of jeans. She was still hot as fuck, and my cock hardened immediately at the sight of her. Her jeans were just tight enough for me to get a nice glimpse of her hot little ass, making me want to bite it, along with other parts of her body. Fuck! How did this small girl turn me into a raving fucking sex fiend? My cock hurt from the throbbing, and I had to adjust my jeans in an attempt to make it at least slightly less obvious. Just great; Spike's gonna have a fucking rip-roaring time with this one. It would be stupid for me to think he wouldn't notice, or wouldn't bust my balls about it later. I ran my hand through my hair nervously and opened the door, rolling my eyes at Spike as I entered, shaking my head behind her at her aggravated motions and bitchy tone.

"How can you expect me to wait until tomorrow? I need that car to get home!" she screeched, her hands now placed on her hips, her right foot tapping nervously.

"I'm sorry, love, but I don't have an available mechanic to check it today. The best I can do is tomorrow. There are other garages down the street…"

"I can't take it down the street. It won't start, and I was lucky to stumble upon this place!" she interrupted, her voice nearing hysterics. I couldn't see her face, but I ventured by her tone she had small pools of tears forming along the bottom of those melting chocolate eyes, along with a pretty pout gracing her full and nip-able lips. He didn't stand a chance against that face; I know I didn't. I stood not even inches behind her, itching to grab her and yank her against my quite painful erection; showing her without doubt what she did to me. Spike would have a coronary however, and getting fired for sexual harassment of a potential customer was not what I wanted to stick on my resume, no matter how much I wanted to bury myself inside her.

Spike's hands rose defensively, looking up to me with this "what-the-fuck-am-I-supposed-to-here" look on his face; fucking priceless. He could make a grown man quake in his boots on his worst day, but he is brought to his knees by a small girl's drama in a matter of seconds. The fact that he couldn't charm her out of her pique was amazing; the man practically oozed it. With his soft lilting voice and intense blue eyes, most girls would peel their panties off and throw them at him, not yell at him like a spoiled brat.

"I'll look at it." I offered, unthinking. She whipped about, startled from my sudden appearance and stared at me in shock as she recognized me from last night. Her bleary eyes widened and held my gaze, her own expression wary as if I was some strange stalker. She then looked me over, her wandering eyes fixated on my belt for some reason. "Hello, baby girl." I whispered to her, as if we were alone in the room. "Miss me?" She sputtered, no coherent words forming on her lips. I leaned towards her, our noses nearly kissing, and murmured, "I dreamt of you last night. In-fucking-credible!" A warm rosy flush spread across her exposed skin, bringing warm life to the cool ethereal hue that made her look almost too angelic to touch, let alone do the erotic and depraved things I was doing to her in my dreams last night.

**I have alot of WIP i am obsessed with, and several writers you all NEED to read, if you already are not... what i am saying? OF COURSE you all love BitterHarpy, CecePrincess1217, MissLiss15, MeteorOnAMoonlessNight, Assilem33, and Alyscia! Right? I mean ... right? *** Some of these ladies post their magic on though so yea, maybe find them if you have been blind to their existence... **

**Reviews are appreciated but please, be kind and constructive. I would never purposely hurt another's feelings or try to hinder their muse, and I hope you all feel the same. I'm a big girl, so you don't have to hide behind a "guest" review tag, get me? If we missed it, or screwed it up, let me know… but I'm human, my loves, please consider that. **


	6. Chapter 6 - and Blessed

_**A/N - HUGE thanks for my leading ladies who support me and keep me from giving up on my ideas: Bitterharpy, MissLiss15, Alyscia, KrazyK85 and Snoopylover60. **_

_**The stunning MarieCarro made my gorgeous banner for me and is also an amazing writer, so check out her work asap here! **_

_**And hugs and smoochies to maplestyle (my prereader) AND EdwardsFirstKiss without whom i would not be anywhere NEAR as eloquent as I appear now. **_

_**Let's do this ! :D **_

Chapter 6 - … and Blessed

BPOV

I recognized that smooth as honey voice instantly, Mase and just as easily, warm shivers vibrated through me as he spoke, making my insides feel like melting chocolate. What were the chances? He resembled more of a rock star than a grease monkey. I whipped around and upon realizing it was not my imagination conjuring that sexy drawl, I gawked at him; my eyes widening like saucers as I took in his rugged and dirty, yet fucking sexy as hell appearance. His forehead sported greasy fingerprints, most likely from messing with his tousled wavy hair with his grease-covered hands. His clothes were casual, a ripped Depeche Mode T-shirt, and a pair of faded jeans, with holes scattered along the legs. And that buckle; that obscenely shiny buckle that drew your attention to his groin. As my eyes drifted to the groin in question, I noticed a large bulge, moving ever so slightly towards his navel as I stared. Could that be his… No fucking way! My heart rate tripled, and I was almost afraid it would come out of my throat, it was beating so erratically.

_Hello? You are staring at his dick, you asstard! _

I looked quickly away, peering around the room in a daze before peeking back to see what he was doing. He was still staring at me; eyes smoldering. Then he asked if I had missed him, which left me practically speechless, apart from the few unintelligible drowning sounds inadvertently escaping my mouth.

That was the best way to describe how I felt when I looked into those intense multi-colored eyes: drowning. Never had I seen eyes with a mixture of blue, green, and gray: temptation eyes per the song by New Order from whoever knows when. But I had heard the song; it was quite catchy. And his eyes were, well, fucking sexy. I couldn't look away; he had me dazzled, completely mesmerized with those intense, wanting eyes.

He leaned in as if to kiss me, and I swear I heard him say he had dreamed of me last night. Warmth spread through my body with the thought he might find me attractive enough to dream about even after Jazz basically cockblocked him. I was horrified when they had arrived, belittling him by attempting to make him feel like a low-life. His flare of temper had been hot, and after he stormed away, I wandered towards the door he had rushed through during his hasty exit. A lone bouncer stood outside the door, a neon sign flashing _Cokes _above it; another bar, perhaps?

Too afraid to test my luck of getting inside what looked like a private club, I sat at the bar nearest the door, hoping that perhaps he would reappear. I had this strange feeling in the pit of my stomach whenever he was near, like butterflies were fluttering around in a frenzy to get out. Accompanying that was a pleasurable but inconvenient wetness that moistened my panties, making me shift my legs back and forth in an attempt to get comfortable. Those feelings from last night were back in force today, making me ache with a need I couldn't explain. It had to be him, this strangely primitive and sexy man-god; physically perfect except for the facial "decorations" that seemed to enhance rather than distort his gorgeous features.

What were the chances that he would be in this particular garage in the middle of town? Repair shops were seemingly everywhere, yet I practically gravitated right into his midst by walking into his workplace.

The stupid rental car wouldn't start; it just sat there mocking me as I desperately tried flipping switches and turning knobs. And I know how to drive, thank you very much. I just didn't understand this crap-mobile my parents had rented, I wasn't even sure the buttons were in English, for god's sake! They were too worn out to read, making the task of finding the correct switches rather difficult, even when the crap-mobile decided to run.

The blonde behind the counter cleared his throat dramatically, bringing me back to the reality that I was staring at Mase open-mouthed, like a baby bird waiting to be fed. How absolutely embarrassing! I turned away, suddenly fascinated with the worn tiles on the floor. Mase just laughed, took my hand, and led me outside.

"Which one is it, baby doll?" he asked, rubbing my covered bicep with his thumb gently, making swirling motions as my butterflies took flight once again and my knees threatened to collapse beneath me. He reached out with his other hand, tipping up my head to meet his eyes. "You aren't afraid of me, are you, baby?" he coaxed in a soothing tone.

I shook my head, still unable to speak. He grinned at that, tweaking my nose with his forefinger. Seriously, first the baby doll endearment, now a nose tweak? Am I five?

My expression must have said volumes about how I felt about the gesture, but he simply shook his head, then glanced down the street at all the parked cars against the sidewalk. Oh right, the car. He can't look at it unless I show it to him, now can he? "It's that one," I admitted bashfully, pointing to the red POS that was parked directly in front of the door. "I can't get it to start. The radio works as well as the lights, so it isn't the battery…"

My words drifted off as I saw him staring at the car with an amused expression, fighting to not burst into outright laughter. "Yeah yeah, I know," I muttered, "It's crap: my parents rented it for me until I can get something 'reasonable'. Now can you fix it? Please?"

I touched his arm gently because quite honestly, I figured a little flirting might be the key to getting home sooner, rather than later. Oh, who am I kidding? He was hot, and I was definitely interested in him working on more than just my car. He glanced at me at the contact, his eyes filling with a devilish sparkle. "What's in it for me? It's my lunch break, you know?"

Did he skip lunch to look at my car? The gesture was sweet and gentlemanly, and really not what I would expect from someone like Mase. His appearance screamed danger and impulsiveness, with no hint of chivalry. He was a complete enigma. "Um… what do you want?" I asked nervously.

"Hmmm…" he murmured. "I don't think I can tell you what I want, baby doll. You'd probably faint. But I'll settle for meeting me at the club tonight. What do you think?"

I nodded slowly and handed him the keys, trying not to show my excitement over the prospect of meeting him tonight. He strolled to the driver's seat and got in, attempting to start the car. If that piece of crap started now, I swore I would just die right here on the curb, feeling like a total jackass.

He turned the key a couple of more times and sat there a moment, hopped out of the car, and peered under the hood, a small silver ball peeking out from between his lips.

_A tongue ring? Sweet mother of God! _

He ran the ring slowly across his lip-line, making it look as if he were licking something decadent off his upper lip. I imagined how the shiny piece of metal might feel on my skin.

_Focus Bella! The car! _

He sighed and lowered the hood, the end of the barbell disappearing back into his mouth as he strolled back with a grace that almost seemed unmanly. "Your starter needs to be replaced." He announced as he handed me the keys. "You may want to contact the rental agency; they usually have their own people to take care of things like this. I can do it, if they'll foot the bill. Want to call them from inside?" he asked politely, his eyes wandering as he spoke. My breath hitched as I let out a strangled "yes", before following him back into the office, where he handed me the phone. The numb-nuts quickly agreed to pay for the repairs; apologizing in triplicate about the inconvenience. I nodded to Mase who held out his hands for the keys again, which I eagerly gave him.

I couldn't believe what he asked for as "payment". I guess I hadn't been misreading his signals after all. My body tingled in anticipation, wondering what tonight might bring, and if I would later regret agreeing to this madness. My father would never accept someone like Mase, but I doubt a relationship was what he was looking for. He, on the other hand, was just what I needed: danger, excitement, passion. Being with him was my way to prove to myself that I was not just a shallow little princess, but a real woman; one with urges and desires that did not always conform to my father's and mother's expectations. Mase to me represented danger, passion, and excitement I lacked. I was more than content to ride along on this adventure and see where the rabbit hole led. A rabbit hole that started at the same bar where we had met.

_Wait... how the fuck am I going to get out of the house?_

_**End notes: If you are looking for a great read, please search out MarieCarro, MissLiss15, KrazyK85, BitterHarpy, Sunshine1220, ceceprincess1217, FallinginLoveinDecember, maplestyle and Alyscia's works of genius… for starters of course! **_


	7. Chapter 7 - Intrigued

_**A/N – I am trying to get on a more solid posting schedule, the last few years (nope not just 2020, has been a little crazy). Also, my muses can be bitches…. True story. Let's hear what Edward is thinking, shall we? **_

_**Huge thanks to EdwardsFirstKiss, who makes me readable and sound more eloquently than I could be trusted to do solo. Love you, lady! Also, hugs and kisses to my Fantastic 5: BitterHarpy, MissLiss15, Alyscia, KrazyK85, and MarieCarro. Without them, I wouldn't be who I am today, and that is a good thing from my perspective. I wuv you bunches, lovies! **_

_**Last but definitely never least, I give thanks to snoopylover60. You got me back in the mix with your encouragement, Debbie and I freaking love you hard for it! **_

_**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all of the Twilight characters and etc. I just play with their lives. **_

Chapter 7 ~ Intrigued

EPOV

_She isn't going to show. Fuck Cullen, you asstard._

I swore if I could kick myself in the nuts, I would have. I leaned my head against the mirrored glass and banged it several times, causing the window to shake slightly as I cursed myself for being a weak fool for the millionth time tonight. She wasn't going to show. And I, like the pitiful puppy I am, was beyond disappointed. Something about her fascinated me, even though she was everything I warned myself against; the exact thing I ran from back home. Deceitful little socialite bitches; thinking because they were born into privilege that they could walk all over you, make you feel insignificant.

I arrived early to get my usual "spot". The staff was unsurprised at my presence even at the early hour. Friday night had always been my usual night for overindulgence since moving to this lifeless town. The club was my typical routine, no matter the day. Even if it was merely for a shot before bed or for a bag of my "personal brand of heroin". It was my sanctuary, a place where I was accepted for who I was. Yet, now I wanted to be anywhere but here because I was a weak fucktard who couldn't tell his cock to heel and leave that pretty little princess alone. No, instead I told her to come tonight, charged her for working on her car with the "pleasure of her company". Fuck Me. It was as if I enjoyed blue balls because I highly doubted that little doll would have put out tonight.

_They're all the same, Mase. Selfish, uncaring ice princesses. Those who please themselves in whatever way and with however they choose, breaking men for their sick twisted sense of amusement. Just like her… every last one of them…_

My stomach churned as thoughts of that twisted whore overwhelmed me, my arms tensing and hands clenching into fists, wanting more than anything to put them through something, or someone. I glanced around for an appropriate victim; someone who deserved my pent-up fury. At that moment she came out from the backroom and memories of a more recent betrayal flooded into my brain.

_Well, helloooooo Lauren. _

I almost forgot about my plans for comeuppance with this one. She was a prime example of why I never let women get too close. On the outside, she exuded confidence, independence, and outright sluttery; jumping from dick to dick like a trapeze artist. Her nickname at the bar was "Long-last Lauren" for Christ sake. But behind that careless façade lay a devious snake and predator; a backstabbing, jealous, and overemotional slut who over-analyzed our "relationship", assuming there was more to it than lust and that a more permanent "relationship" was in the works. Why she had made those assumptions in regards to me was mindboggling; I was never tender, caring, or supportive. A fuck buddy more than a boyfriend, and a slightly twisted fuck buddy at that.

It proved that not only pampered and polished women were inanely devious creatures; no, even common tramps like Lauren had their twisted web to weave. I glared at her as I pondered what her exact punishment should be, for I wasn't going my usual route, which was almost always sexual and mutually satisfying. Frankly, I refused to dirty my cock in that bitch anymore, especially since I was hoping to have a tighter, more exclusive piece of ass in the foreseeable future.

_Are you still pining over that up-class ass, Mase? The term we use for that is pussy-whipped…_

I shook my head in an attempt to stop arguing with myself, which was getting me nowhere fast. Call it what you like, I knew I was fucked. I wanted Isabella, and badly. And no matter how fucking hard it seemed to be, I would have her… and soon. Regardless of my "rules" and despite the knowledge that she could fucking break me if I wasn't careful, just like… FUCK!

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. This pathetic mentality was getting me nowhere. I glanced back towards Lauren, hoping that the sight of her would rekindle the anger and violence boiling up within me. She did her usual "Mase look-around", searching for me in the small yet somewhat busy room. Typical 'stalkeresque' behavior, I assure you. No, I am not that conceited, she does the creepy-stalker thing. Prime example: the phone call to my sister. Her stalker behavior must have prompted her to not only search my office for my black book, which I don't leave lying around but also discern who my sister was since I go by Masen and not Cullen.

Her glazed eyes widened once she realized I was watching this small display of insanity; her teeth biting down on her lip nervously. Did she know how badly I wanted to wrap my hands around her throat and choke the life out of her? I rolled my eyes at her, shaking my head, and motioned for her to come closer. Her eagerness in complying showed she was clueless as to how angry I was at her, but why should she suspect anything? It's not like she knew Alice had called me back. She practically bounced over to my spot at the bar, leaning over the counter with her arms crossed, displaying her overabundance of cleavage as it attempted to spill out of her top. Those ladies were her pride and joy; she showed them off at every opportunity, and who could blame her? They were real; and pretty fucking spectacular, as boobs go.

"Hello Masen," she practically moaned, idolizing me with her eyes like I was Brad fucking Pitt.

"Lau," I replied, staring at her chest like it was about to attack me. "Go fetch me my usual from the back, would ya?" I requested, still mulling around the appropriate punishment for the bitch in my mind I wasn't fucking her anymore, thus eliminating some of my better forms of "punishment", as I previously mentioned. I had to find some appropriate fuckery to pay her back with, however. She paused before entering the back room, her eyes drifting over to Felix, who licked his lips and winked at her as she sashayed her butt to the door. i She rolled her eyes and flipped her hair back as she turned away; causing the sadistic grin that was forming on his face to drop into an irritated scowl.

_Perfect. An ideal accomplice for my now forming plan of "payback's a bitch"._

I stalked over towards Felix, who was still scowling at the closed door to the backroom, and muttered with a grimace in a near whisper, "You want a piece of that Felix?" His gaze snapped up from the door to my face, his expression doubting.

"Ummmmm… well Mase," he stuttered as he shifted his shoulders, obviously uncomfortable with my line of questioning, "You two aren't still…"

I threw up a hand defensively, an affable grin splitting my usually roughed demeanor, "No, no! I'm done with that bitch. I'm not trying to start shit. I was just thinking that maybe I could help you out… with getting a piece of that, I mean."

Felix looked at me doubtfully, his shoulders dropping as he mumbled, "Nah, man. She told me I'm too much of a… um.. 'lumbering ox'… I think she put it. She wants no part of me. She's hot though."

Anyone looking at me would have to say the grin that crossed my features emanated the pure evil that coursed through my brain at that moment. I patted Felix on the shoulder and laughed, responding, "Leave it all to me, Felix. Leave it all to me."

After plotting my "revenge" with an eager Felix, I waited patiently for Lauren to return with my "stash". I glanced back out to the front of the club, wondering if I could salvage the night with some nameless whore once I finished setting up the rest of the details for Lauren's comeuppance. It might be a dangerous endeavor in my current frame of mind, however; it's not the best idea to jump right into sadistic behavior. Those types of pleasures are best introduced after you got her hooked on your cock.

I felt her approach more than heard her. I knew without looking her gaze was glued to my back, as she slithered up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist to hand me my "cig pack". Marcus was discreet, if nothing else. Lauren… not so much. I stiffened and glared back at her, the acrid smell of her imitation perfume singeing my nostrils as the cheap scent enveloped me, some gross French vanilla shit that she wore fucking everywhere. "Here you go, baby. It's on me this time." She purred at me as she rubbed up against my back like a lonely kitten.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head as I grasped her tentacles and attempted to unlock them from around my waist. Fuck, that girl had the grip of a wrestler. "Lauren, seriously? What the fuck is this sudden show of unneeded affection about?" I hissed, still working to wriggle free of the arm-lock she had around my waist, without drawing too much attention in our direction. Did this bitch ever learn?

"I saw you watching me, Mase. I know you want me." She rubbed her mongo-boobs up against me eagerly, dry-humping my back as one would expect from a small dog on a person's leg.

My death-glare and snarl were the only warnings she had before I twisted my body and reached around to pinch her nipple between my fingers cruelly, making her gasp and pull away from me like she was burned. "You know better, Lau. Public displays of groping are a HUGE no-no." I leaned closer to her, whispering, "You wanna fuck baby? Come to the Regency tonight after work…. Room 411. Just walk in and assume the position; you know what I like." Her face lit up like a kid at Christmas as she bobbed her head, quickly agreeing to meet after work. Little did she know I was not the one who she would be meeting.

If the club was crowded last night, tonight it was triply so. The typical "breathing" of the room defined by the melding of human bodies had yet to form when I had arrived. The dance floor had been practically empty. Instead, the sardine packs in front of the bar were obscene; each person pushing and prodding for their spot near the bartender. The alcoves overflowed with buzzed club-goers, gossiping about god-only knows what and leaning on each other lazily. The DJ hadn't even set up yet, so there was nothing to do but get completely and utterly hammered to prepare for the upheaval of overcrowded bodies dry humping each other on the dance floor. Since it was the busiest night of the week, it would be like one gigantic dressed orgy.

Now the bar was its usual insanity; people everywhere in all states of fucked-upedness. Techno music blared from the speakers as the DJ flounced around like a maniac, trying to hype up an already out-of-control crowd. None of this crush bothered me, however, for the private club was never that insane; the atmosphere was mellow and dimly lit. Thus, the reason for my hiding in here; the crowd in here never got obscene, as only select handfuls of patrons were privileged enough to gain entrance, and most of them were already here.

I searched again for the baby doll, banging my head on the mirrored glass in frustration as I realized, once again, that she was not here and likely not coming: Two2 hours later, and still a no show. I was unsure as to why I kept looking for her; obviously, she never intended to show up. The worst part was I couldn't just shrug it off, as was my custom. And I wanted to, badly.

_**End Notes: If you need something mind grabbing to read, check out (Love Bites by PearlyFox, Solace by MissLiss15, SoCal by KrazyK85 (it's almost done ppl), and Rock & Roll Boots and White Collar Roots by BitterHarpy). Other great authors to check out if you have time are FallinginLoveinDecember, Maplestyle, Robzbeanie, ceceprincess1217, and BrierLynn03 – as well as all the lovely ladies mentioned in the WIP recs above! **_

i


	8. Chapter 8 - and Obsessed

**A/N - I asked MissLiss15 if i should post this tonight, and her response was, "Why not?" So here we are, back with Bella. Not too wordy with my A/N tonight. Big Thanks for EdwardsFirstKiss for making me readable. She is amazing and i don't know what i would do without her! **

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns the characters I abuse in all the fun imaginative ways I am able. We all thank her for them. **

**Chapter 8 ...and Obsessed**

**BPOV**

As the grandfather clock in the corner of my room struck midnight, I slowly accepted the fact that I would spend yet another Friday night alone. I should have known better than to agree to meet Mase tonight; there was no way in hell I could convince my "bodyguards" that it was a great plan to go back to that club. Did I say they were more accomplices than bodyguards? Yeah, well screw that, at least tonight. Jasper didn't even have the cojones to tell me in person and dash my hopes of a night on the town. No, instead he sent his she-dragon of a sister to put me in my place. I felt like a naughty child as I watched her expression change from absentminded attentiveness to outright fury when I explained why I wanted to go back to the club tonight.

I was very tempted to throw one of my pillows at her, but that would just show exactly how juvenile I felt, sitting on my bed with my arms wrapped around my legs, awaiting a punishment for my alleged "crimes". As I stared at her, I realized that Rose was ugly looking when she got angry. Small lines ran across her brow and her eyes squinted as she scrunched her face up in annoyance, and the frown marring her naturally beautiful and radiant smile made her look much older than her years.

I stared blindly at her as she informed me that there was no way she was giving in to my whim to behave like a common strumpet. She paced my room like a caged animal as she berated me for my "behavior" today; even telling me my parents shouldn't allow me to wander about by myself if I couldn't use the common sense I was born with. Typical Rosalie, drama queen galore! From her perspective, I sold my "company" to a sleazebag to get him to service my car, something that he got paid to do for a living, anyway. I rolled my eyes, wishing she would just go the fuck to bed already and leave me to daydream about Mase and dirty the hot things I would like him to do to me.

"I mean, Bella," she shrieked, "are you that desperate to get fucked that any scumbag will do?"

She glared at me as she tapped her foot impatiently on the ground, just daring me to answer. This coming from the ATM for cock. Back home, she was notorious for spreading her legs on a whim; she had fucked her gardener, for fuck's sake! And he was twice her age! She had no qualms about a quickie with a stranger, especially not a fuckhawt sex God-like Mase. What the fuck was her deal?

Plus, desperate? Desperate and Anthony Masen didn't fit in the same sentence. Exuding confidence and grace, just his outward appearance alone made you soak your panties. And when those green eyes stared at you like you were naked, Dear God, save me! He was like a walking sex ad, honestly. "Desperate Rose?" I mocked, "Not hardly. But I bet he packs some serious fucking heat and knows what to do with it!" I wish I knew this knowledge firsthand and was not merely guessing, because fuck, I was turned on by the thought of him touching me in any kind of sexual way. "It's not like I'm trying to take him to prom or bring him home to meet daddy; I just want some fucking action that doesn't involve mamma's boys, plastic or my own two hands!" Was she seriously that dense? My "experience", as she puts it, is nearly non-existent as it is; who is she to kitty-block me like this?

"And you think your esteemed father would be _ok_ with this line of thinking, Bella?" she inquired mockingly.

"You think yours would be _ok _with knowing you were screwing the gardener, Rosie?" I replied scathingly. Yes, I went there.

Rosalie gasped, her hand fluttering up to her face delicately, her eyes slowly filling with tears. Here it comes, the pity Rosalie act. "You…. promised you wouldn't say anything about that …. EVER! I thought you were my best friend! Laurent seduced me with his soothing Jamaican accent, and you know it! And he keeps drawing me in, like a moth to a flame. I just can't help myself."

I rolled my eyes as I handed her a tissue. "Calm down, Rose! I was just proving my point, not threatening you. It just irks me that you refuse to understand my point of view on this. How long has it been since I have found someone even remotely interesting enough to contemplate pursuing? Tonight was the perfect chance to see what he is made of." I sighed dejectedly, knowing that there was no way my parents would let us go anywhere now, even if I _could _convince Rosalie that it was a good idea.

I flopped back against my pillows and exhaled a long drawn out breath, staring at the ceiling as if it were the only escape from Rose's rambling… wait… it WAS! I could picture her now, even while my eyes remained fixed on the ceiling fan's counterclockwise rotation, tapping her foot in annoyance while her blue eyes overflowed with guilt-wrenching tears, her lips formed in a small O at my attempt to ignore her self-pity party.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt, Bella," she admonished softly. "Although you act tough on the outside, I know deep down you are simply a gooey sweet cookie on the inside." I glanced down at her, surprised at the sincerity in her soft-spoken words as she continued. "This Mase," she hissed his name like it was a curse, "is trouble with a capital T. You are out of his league, trust me. He WILL hurt you, and I am merely trying to avoid that."

I sighed softly. This conversation was getting us nowhere, and I just wanted some alone time to lick my wounds, per se. I closed my eyes to block her out and muttered quickly, "It's ok Rose; I understand the whole protection bit. I get it: I just wish you and Jazz would just try to see things from my viewpoint sometimes. I mean, how am I supposed to learn life's lessons if everyone shields me from its harsh reality? What do I have to do to prove I don't need to be coddled?"

"Act rationally for a change, maybe?" she replied.

_And what fun is that? _

Although tons of scathing replies came to mind, I bottled them up inside, not wanting to isolate myself from one of my only two confidants; one of the only two people who give in to my insanity at times; even relishing the adventure. So, I kept quiet, hoping she would take the hint and just leave me alone; alone to lick my wounds.

After about 10 minutes of harrumphing and "Bella ing" she finally huffed and left the room, flipping the switch and immersing my room in darkness during her exit. My subterfuge worked; she must have assumed I had fallen asleep. The problem was, I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw those mesmerizing eyes; eyes that promised insurmountable pleasure.

_I felt the tension build between us as I walked toward Mase, determined to explore the intense feelings I had on a more physical level. He stood there, leaning back on the counter with his arms crossed, his smirk taunting me as I approached. _

"_Forget something, baby doll?" he asked, his voice deep and warm, his eyes never leaving mine. _

"_As a matter of fact," I replied as I threw myself against him, plastering my lips onto his in a needy manner. _

_The kiss he returned was indescribable; warm, exciting, needy, and violent all wrapped up into a hot and steamy package. His arms wrapped around me like steel bands as he drew me in, pulling me against his muscled and very hard body. I could feel the length of him throbbing against me and mother-of-fuck it was big. _

"_Mase," I whispered desperately as he ground his length against me and whispered of the pleasures to come._

"Yes?"

I awoke startled, wondering where that dream came from and why the last response sounded way too realistic to be my 'dream Mase'. Erotica in my sleep; not my cup of tea. I was a bit perturbed that I had awoken at that exact time because the dream was getting quite good, to be honest. I could still feel the warmth down below, indicating that my hoo-hah was warmed up and ready for … something. I reached down in an attempt to alleviate my sudden need for release and began half-heartedly playing with my clit; I never really quite got the whole self-gratification thing down, since none of my 'near-hits' in the bedroom ever quite got me screaming out the name of whichever 'DJ. Diddles' was trying to bring me to release. I had just started to ease my finger inside and emitted a tiny moan when a deep chuckle caused me to practically jump out of my bed, my hand in front of my throat in shock.

I sat up quickly, grasping my covers to my chest as I stared in horror at my now open balcony door and the man leaning casually against the frame with his arms crossed, much like the way he looked in my dream moments before. I'm sure I looked like the cliché girl in the horror movies with my covers grasped up like they were and my mouth forming a surprised little O as he smirked devilishly at me. But my main concern at the moment were: what was he doing here, how did he get in, and what the hell did he want?

"Wh-what are you doing here?" I stammered, whispering just in case anyone in the house was still awake at this god-awful hour.

"You never showed. I never thought you would back out of our bargain, sweets." He replied. His smirk faded and his eyes narrowed momentarily as he shifted them to look away from me, lost somewhere in his mind before he continued with a growl. "Women are notorious for being lying, deceitful little bitches though, aren't they? Pity, really." He closed his eyes then and shook his head as if to shake off an unpleasant memory, before sighing and glancing back at me, devilish twinkle intact once again. "Please don't let me interrupt you, baby doll. I was just getting ready to settle in and enjoy the show."

_Fuck. My. Life. _

"How did you get in here?" I heard myself ask, even though the answer was obvious from his position in my room.

"The window." He replied, pointing to the window near the balcony to my room. "The door was locked, unfortunately."

He pushed off from the door frame and walked toward the bed I was huddled in.

"Need a hand with that?" he whispered huskily as he approached. "I have been thinking about touching you since I first walked in to overhear your quite entertaining dream. Thinking about me, baby doll?"

Mortified with the realization that the "Yes" that startled me out of my dream was most likely him responding to my dream and not a part of the dream. I scrambled back against my headboard, trying to hide underneath my covers like a kid hiding from the boogeyman.

_It's your own fault you talk in your sleep, you asswit!_

"I…I…" was all I could manage to vocalize as he stood at the foot of my bed, looking fuck-hawt, of course. No wonder I dreamed about this mother-fucker, who wouldn't?

*****End Note - Are you reading anything fun and exciting? If you need new and truly awesome fic to read, check out BitterHarpy, MissLiss15, PearlyFox, MarieCarro, Ceceprincess1217, Alyscia, and KrazyK85. They all rock socks! You will NOT be sorry! **


	9. Chapter 9 Sex

**Warning – this chapter is completely intended for mature eyes only. If you are too young to read this, please DON'T! Again****.. Click the little x and move along, kids! For the rest of you… I hope it meets expectations. Thanks to EdwardsFirstKiss, my amazing beta. And loads of hugs and kisses to Mel and Stephie, my left and right hands! I love you both more than I can ever express in words. And I am one wordy bitch!**

**I have a group on facebook, facebook group****s****/ ****574449222889016 (LunaEclipse / Ivylane Fics)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, Stephenie Meyer does. I just mess around with their lives. **

**Chapter ****9**** ~ Sex****...**

**EPOV**

_**Six shots, five lines, and four beers after we last left Mase…**_

I was bored, angry, disappointed, and horny. A really bad fucking combination if you ask me. After waiting way too long for Bella to show up at the club, I found myself riding aimlessly through the streets of Port Angeles, searching for some way to let out at least one of my current frustrations. The problem was, this Molotov cocktail of emotions had been caused by one small ice princess or ice princess in training. And since she never deigned to show her face at the bar, I had absolutely no way to get in contact with the little minx. Or did I?

Inspiration struck and before I knew it, I was at the shop digging through customer files, searching for information on one Baby Doll Swan.

_Stalker much, Mase?_

_Fuck Off!_

_I have to do something about this arguing with myself before I ended up in the nuthouse. _

After completing my 'stalkeresque' detective work, off I went, determined to find and confront Miss No-show. Forks, of all places. The nowheresville of Washington. The ironic part was that for moving to a nondescript place, they picked the most pretentious house in the entire town. I parked my bike outside the gates and quietly made my way around the property (after stumbling a few times), looking for some indication of where she could be hiding inside.

_Creepy, Mase. Really fucking creepy. Wandering through some girl's yard, seeking her out like a crazed maniac. Are you trying to get us arrested, fucker?_

This wasn't typical Mase behavior. Girls chased me, not the other way around. There was no need for me to search out this particular girl, but something drew me to her. Something about her made me want to rip off her clothes and fuck the living hell out of her. Was it the challenge, perhaps? The fact she stood me up tonight, maybe? Or the haughty manner in which her friends treated me, indicating I was beneath her somehow? Possibly. Was this amplified by the fact I was really, entirely too fucked up at the moment? Almost definitely.

The house was almost completely dark, except for a light streaming out from behind a curtain in front of balcony doors on the second floor. I hesitated, unsure as to who occupied that room of the house. I certainly did not want to end up in She-bitch or Dickwad's room, now did I? But I was surprisingly OK with the idea of 'breaking and entering' baby doll's room, eager in fact.

_Who are you? Fucking Romeo now? Oh, Romeo Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?_

I rolled my eyes, annoyed with myself for my inner musing. Romeo, my ass!

Conveniently enough, a trellis full of winding roses trailed up the house between that balcony and the one for the room next to it; handy, no?

_That which you call a Rose, by any other name, would still smell as sweet._

_Oh, for the love of __God__, have we grown a fucking pussy or what? _

Scaling the trellis was no problem, even in my inebriated state. I soon found myself outside the doors to the room that I assumed was Bella's, unsure where to go from here. It was then I heard a familiar screeching, from Rich Bitch Barbie inside. Please, Jesus, tell me I'm not standing on this bitch's balcony! I could clearly hear her from my position outside. I settled myself into one of the balcony's chairs; completely intending to wait this out and see if I could determine where my baby doll was hiding.

"This Mase is trouble with a capital T. You are out of his league, trust me. He WILL hurt you, and I am merely trying to avoid that." I overheard from inside. She was right, I was 100% trouble. Her being out of my league? Well, I suppose that could be true as well; depending upon your point of view on the matter. But Miss Priss didn't know me at all, which is why I found myself surprisingly pissed off about her defaming my somewhat questionable character.

I heard some of Bella's reply, although she was not as close to the door as Rosalie, so it was muffled and unrecognizable. But when Prissy-miss told her to act rationally, I rolled my eyes. Seriously, this girl acted more like an old maid than a stuck up and somewhat debutante with questionable morals. I'm sure she had parted her legs many a time in the name of "love"; let's just put it that way. In my opinion, her giving advice to Bella on men was purely laughable, as I had yet to see any "boyfriend" clinging to her devotedly.

After her tirade, Rosalie paced around for a bit, then finally turned out the lights and left, from what I could surmise from the sudden silence in the room. Did that mean Bella was asleep?

_Does it matter, psycho? You are lurking outside her fucking bedroom door for god's sake! _

_Shut. The. Fuck. Up._

I hesitated, realizing in the depths of my fuzzy frame of mind that I was acting like a complete psychopath. Maybe a smoke would help clear my befuddled mind. I grabbed my pack and lit my cig quickly, drawing in the smoke through my lips as if it were as necessary as the air I breathed and exhaled.

_Fuck, did I love this nasty habit. _

As I smoked, I thought more about Bella, and this twisted fascination I had with her. Could I just leave her well enough alone? She didn't show, but was that because she had no interest, or were there unforeseen circumstances where she just couldn't make it out tonight?

_You're setting yourself up for a fall, you douche! I thought we had settled this long ago. Rich bitches are big trouble. They reel you in, take as much as they can get, and then stomp on your heart like a bug. _

I should just walk away. This was a stupid, impulsive idea, spurred on by my excessive substance abuse. I looked at the door, then back down at the lawn, and back to the door again. I wiggled the handle. Locked. Not surprising, I supposed. I was just about to grab ahold of the trellis when the devil side of my conscience noticed the window. I reached out. It slid open. I imagined what she slept in. Would it be something frilly and sexy, or conservative and encasing?

_Fuck It!_

In through the window, I went, like a thief in the night. I stood by her window, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. Fuck, it's brighter outside than in this tomb. I rolled my eyes at myself for my unintentional rhyme of thought and looked around for a way to improve my vision without awakening sleeping beauty. I didn't dare turn on a light, so I thought of the next best thing, the doors to the balcony.

Once I opened them, soft light flooded into the room, basking the bed in a soft white glow. But the first thing I noticed was not the girl sleeping peacefully between the sheets, but the bed itself. It was fucking round! Who the fuck has a round bed, for Christ's sake? Never in my life had I seen a bed like this, and focusing on the bed made me think of all the things I would like to do to one particular female in that bed. This caused even more problems with the inebriated monster in my head and the demon in my pants which was now throbbing rather painfully. _Well fuck_.

When I finally closed my mouth from ogling the bed, I rested my eyes on the person sleeping peacefully in it. There she lay; the object of my unwilling affection of the moment. I was hoping I could get her out of my system once and for all with a quick tumble between the sheets. Round sheets apparently, 'cause that bed was fucking hot, and I was _so_ fucking her in it.

_Getting ahead of yourself, eh Mase? I didn't think we were the raping type. _

I was about to kick my own ass for even thinking something like that; questioning my own morals and such. Sure, I was an asshole, a violent fucker, and obviously a criminal since I had basically broken into a girl's bedroom, but a rapist? Never in a million years.

Her mumbling and soft moans shook me out of my internal argument, and before I could focus on what she was doing, I heard my name being whispered. I could tell she was not awake by the way she thrashed her head around on the pillows, her hair billowing around her like a rough ocean storm. Her eyes flickered behind her closed eyelids. Dreaming about me, possibly?

"Yes?" I replied, unthinking. My voice, although barely a whisper, startled her because she jerked as if she had been struck by one of my whips. Then before my eyes, her hand began to tentatively shift under the sheets, closer and closer to the exact spot I had been hoping to become acquainted with this evening. She was so tentative about the entire affair that I chuckled, quite a few pleasant images floating around in my mind.

What happened next was even more amusing. Have you ever seen movies where the girl is scared in bed and grabs her sheets like they are going to protect her from an unknown intruder? Yeah, that's exactly what she did. She was too fucking cute, this one. Her mouth formed an O of surprise, bringing my twisted mind back to my dick and the fact I would love her to have that hot little mouth wrapped around it right now.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" she barely whispered, either out of fear of me or discovery I'm not exactly sure.

_Yeah, what the fuck are we doing here? _

"You never showed. I never thought you would back out of our bargain, sweets." I threw at her, stating the obvious, of course. I had thought she would honor our little agreement, as sleazy as it was. I thought for some odd reason that she wasn't like the rest, not like that bitch I left back home with my old life.

_You can trust none of them; especially not this one!_

"Women are notorious for being lying, deceitful little bitches though, aren't they? Pity." I shook the mental image of Tanya away; I didn't want to get the two confused. Although this one might be just as much of a bitch and liar. It was my fault for initiating any type of relationship with her, anyway; I had promised myself I would never do this again. Sighing in resignation, I glanced back at Bella; fuck she was cute though. If I could keep my stupid heart out of this, she could be fun to play with for a bit.

"Please don't let me interrupt you, baby doll. I was just getting ready to settle in and enjoy the show." She blushed, asking how I got into her room.

"The window," I answered, pointing to the open window in question. "The door was locked, unfortunately."

I moved away from the door, wanting to be closer to her for some inexplicable reason. As I approached the bed, I noticed her eyes watching nervously, but she had yet to tell me to get out or leave her alone. My dick and my head saw that as a good sign. "Need a hand with that? I have been thinking about touching you since I first walked in and overheard your quite entertaining dream. Thinking about me, baby doll?"

My dick felt like it was made of granite; pulsing as I drew near. Thank god Bella couldn't hear the fucking thing; it would probably scare her out of her fucking wits. I would almost bet she had never seen a dick before, and I could almost guarantee she hadn't seen one the size of mine. Penis envy was one thing I never had to deal with growing up.

She stuttered, which turned me on for some god-forsaken reason. And if she could have hidden under the covers, like a child hiding from the bogeyman, I think she would have. She held the covers like they were a shield protecting her from my view. Little did she know that I had her curves memorized, so except for the fact I had yet to see her naked, I knew full well what deliciousness she was hiding from me.

As for my offer to help get her off, well, the poor girl looked as if she needed a manual to work that shit out given how tentatively she'd touched herself, and getting a girl off was something I excelled in. And I can tell you this much if I am a master at anything; it's sex. And I wanted to touch her, and make her scream out in pleasure. My fingers twitched as I thought of exploring her body, and this awkward silence was getting me absolutely nowhere, and fast.

"Baby doll?" I purred as I walked around the side of the bed. "Should I leave?" I should, and fast. My voice sounded too caring, too gentle, too… Edward. And I wasn't Edward anymore, I had worked for a long time in getting rid of that gentlemanly son of a bitch out of my persona. And this little girl brought him swimming to the surface. That was bad. Really bad!

_Snap the fuck out of it, douchebag! _

"No reply? I thought maybe you could use some help with the little problem you seem to be experiencing. No need to get all shy and tongue-tied about it, lover." _Better. Confident, cocky, and a little on the dickhead side, but better._

She flushed, and her brows furrowed. As her body shook and she started hissing, I knew I had hit a nerve. She was trying to keep quiet, to avoid discovery, yet I could tell by the glimmer in her eye she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. "Of all the… You cocky, arrogant… I know how to masturbate, you bastard!" she hissed; her voice just above a whisper. She looked around frantically, probably for something to throw at me. She was hot as fuck when she was angry. My dick, which was being well behaved until this point, started to object to its confinement in my pants.

My verbal filter, which had left for the evening, would have smacked me when I replied, "You fucking could have fooled me. I thought you were trying to massage it to sleep a moment ago. Were you honestly trying to get off, sweets?" one eyebrow went up as I looked at her, sneer in place. "And since you haven't asked me to leave yet, I'm assuming it's an unspoken offer." I sat on the edge of her bed, anxiously awaiting her next outburst. She was absolutely fascinating, the way she seemed shy and innocent yet wild and fiery at the same time. I did not have long to wait for her next outburst, yet her response shocked the ever-living fuck out of me.

"You think you can get me off, motherfucker?! I doubt that." She threw down the covers and thrust her hands onto her hips, tilting her head to the side, looking at me once again, as if I were lacking. Her somewhat adorable sleeping apparel was revealed, a black camisole over a pink Dolce V bra with matching boy shorts. _Don't even fucking ask how I know that_. Boy shorts was a funny term as there was nothing boy-like about these shorts, with a flower appliqué on the side of them. The sight of that flower made my dick protest fiercely; I was determined to explore what was behind and below said flower, and soon.

Realizing I had yet to respond to her challenge, I looked into her wide eyes, winked, and chuckled. "I don't think, baby. I know." I murmured as I leaned over, my cheek skimming hers as I moved to whisper into her ear, "And I think you know it too. If not, why are you trembling? Are you sure you aren't afraid?" I nipped her earlobe gently as I sucked her lobe into my mouth, my right hand moving up to tangle into her silky hair. "By the way, if I haven't mentioned this," I lowered my voice to a mere whisper as I continued, "I like to bite."

With a slight tug, her neck bowed just enough, giving my lips, teeth, and tongue access to trail nips and licks down the column of her neck. I have to admit, her immediate surrender shocked me a bit. She went from a hissing wildcat to a purring kitten in no time flat! It made me wish I could read her mind, to find out what caused this phenomenon to occur. But not one to press my luck, I continued as if nothing was amiss. She moaned softly, her arms reaching up for her fingers to grip onto my biceps, and surprisingly real nails dug into my skin as she raked them down my arms, holding me close to her. The feeling was fucking amazing, and a growl escaped my lips as the slivers of pain snaked down my arms. "Fuck," I whispered as I tightened my grip in her hair roughly. "That's it, baby; fuck that is hot."

I licked across her collarbone, loosening my grip on her hair to allow my hands to skim down her back and arch her body towards me, moving her breasts closer to my mouth. I nipped at the material of her shirt with my teeth, pulling it away from her skin as I growled, "This has to go." My hands moved even lower, to grasp the hem of the tank to pull it over her head, pausing only to allow her to free my arms from her grasp. The flimsy top was then deftly removed and thrown across the room almost immediately after.

If I feared my dick would explode before, I was sure the rock-hard fucking thing would fall off at this point, because the girl's breasts were just… fucking PERFECT. I mean unmarred, perky, handful, rosy nippled, and all. The Mecca of fucking tits was right in front of me. So, I did what any other hot-blooded male would do, I cupped them in my hands and squeezed them before lowering my mouth and biting one peak lightly, then the other. My hands had moved back to massaging her back, keeping her chest close to my mouth as I sucked one puckered nipple into my mouth, earning a hearty moan from the girl beneath me.

Her hands shifted towards me, her fingers tentatively moving towards my pants, unbuckling my belt and sliding the zipper down ever so slowly; shy little fucking thing. Still holding her closer with my one hand, I grasped her hands with my other and coaxed them towards their goal, and soon after my cock practically did a fist pump as her small hands wrapped around him gently. The way she handled me like she would hurt me, almost made me laugh out loud. _Not a hand job master, eh Bella?_

"You aren't going to break it, baby doll," I assured her as I wrapped my hand around hers and tightened my grip, showing her how I liked my cock stroked. She caught on quickly and soon my eyes threatened to roll back into my head as her silky feeling hands stroked and pulled at me eagerly. "Harder, baby," I urged, "Twist a little, yeah like that." Precum leaked onto her hands and if I hadn't known better, I would think the girl had never touched a cock before the way her hands jerked slightly and her breath hitched as she ran her fingers over the head.

I moved my coaxing hand from my pants and drifted it down her torso, lingering near the waistband of her shorts. I fingered the material lightly, making sure no protest came from the girl below me before venturing into new and exciting territory. After holding my breath for a few short moments, I proceeded onward, under the boy-shorts, and towards the promised land. Too soon, you may think? Well, the girl had practically dared me to make her come.t What did one expect a drunk, high and horny man to do? Anthony Masen was not one to back down from a dare, especially not one that had me exactly where I had been fantasizing of being for the past few listless nights. I teased her folds with my fingers, noticing immediately that she was soaking wet. She moaned, arching ever so slightly into my hand, causing me to cup her sex. Fuck, that was hot! By dick bucked eagerly, earning a hiss from her as she practically yanked her hands out of my pants.

"It's not going to bite you, Bella." I snarked, earning a pout from her full, edible lips as I glanced up to gauge her reaction. Her entire body flushed a glorious shade of rose as she nibbled on her lower lip. Fuck, how I loved a nibbler. A growl rumbled forth as she regained her confidence and went back to the task of stroking me, a bit more aggressively this time. I started rubbing her clit with my thumb, which caused more low moans, accompanied by a whispered, "Mase…".

I thrust a finger between her lips and realized how tight she was. Holy Mother of Fuck! The speed of my hand increased as she became frenzied, her ministrations on me forgotten as her hands came back up to grip my arms, this time her nails latching onto my shoulders, as I stroked in and out with my finger, feeling the tension build in her body until her walls started to clench together, her "Oh God, I'm…" echoing rather loudly in the room as she fell apart in my arms. Her body went lax as her fingers released their grip to trail down my arms as she fell backward onto the bed, the look on her face sated, like a cat that just had her bellyful of cream.

_I have some cream I'd like to fill her mouth and belly with._

I nearly vocalized that thought when I heard footsteps nearing the door to her room. Well fuck me sideways, this can't be good. The steps stopped right outside of Bella's door, and before I could move, I heard a soft yet angry voice from the other side.

"Bella," I heard through the closed door that I feared would swing open at any second, revealing to her mother that she had a man's hand between her thighs at the moment and was definitely NOT sleeping, "are you still awake in there? Just because you don't have school tomorrow doesn't mean you can stay up all night, you know. Now go to SLEEP!"

_Wait…School?_

My head jerked up as the words processed in my now somewhat sober brain and my dick, not a complete idiot, began to deflate. Anger began to build as the thought of yet another fuck over from a rich, spoiled little princess started to flood my mind.

"How fucking old are you?!"

_**End Notes: How old do you think she is? **_

_**I am reading some great author's work right now: BitterHarpy, Assilem33, MarieCarro, MissLiss15, KrazyK85, Maplestyle, Alyscia, Ceceprincess1217, and PearlyFox. There are so many others but i can't list them all at one time. Check them out and enjoy some of the great stories i am reading with me. They all have complete ones too, if WIP is not your thing. **_


End file.
